


Broken Hearts

by Widowfics



Series: Varian and Whumptober 2020 [17]
Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon), Tangled (2010)
Genre: (That's a lie), Grief, Hurt Varian (Disney), RUDDIGER IS HERE, Sorry I'm Late, Survivor Guilt, Whumptober 2020, and he's IMPORTANT, anyways I hope that you like it..., cause I wrote it in like ten minutes, don't judge I'm just a freshman, it won't happen again, mourning loved one, this one's really short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:21:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27118793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Widowfics/pseuds/Widowfics
Summary: “Why don’t they care about me?” his boy continues, sounding too tired to cry anymore. “Why don’t they care about him?”He glances at his father, breath hitching and tears from before quickly coming back.“Why did you push me, Dad?” he asks desperately, focus completely gone from the raccoon and all on the amber.Ruddiger backs away, watching everything with an aching heart from afar.
Relationships: Ruddiger & Varian (Disney)
Series: Varian and Whumptober 2020 [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1940524
Comments: 14
Kudos: 63
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Broken Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> sorry this is late! I may or may not have written it instead of paying attention in class...  
> I have NO time to reread this so I really hope there are no mistakes, but if there are, I'll have to fix them later
> 
> PROMPTS I USED TODAY: grief, mourning loved ones, survivor's guilt

Ruddiger scampers away at the sudden crash of glass inches from him. He darts behind a bookshelf, only daring to look at the source of the violent action once he’s fully hidden.

Varian trembles in front of his desk, eyes trained on the broken glass on the lab floor, hand still slightly outstretched from when he shoved his empty beakers. Only a few seconds pass before he falls to his knees, burying his face in his hands. His small body shakes with quiet sobs, tears hitting the cold, stone ground softly.

The sight tells Ruddiger all he needs to know. His boy is not going into one of his rage fits where it’s better to stay out of his way. He knows Varian is lonely, and hurting, but he can only help if he lets him.

Which is becoming less and less often.

But now seems to be one of those vulnerable moments. Ruddiger hates seeing his friend in such distress, but he gladly bounds over to the crying boy, knowing he has the chance to help.

In an attempt to get his attention, Ruddiger nudges Varian’s wet hands with his nose, then sits back on his hind legs, waiting for a reaction. Varian tenses at the touch, before lowering his hands, revealing red rimmed eyes and pink cheeks caused by both anger and growing cold. He sniffles, quickly drawing an arm over his face and brushing off the tears. His gaze locks with his pet’s, unfocused yet concentrated at the same time.

“Sorry I scared you, buddy,” he finally says, voice hoarse from disuse. As if to make it up to his friend, he holds his arms out, an unspoken invitation hanging in the air. Ruddiger doesn’t waste a moment before launching himself into his child’s chest. Varian holds on to him, squeezing and clinging desperately to his fur as if that’s his only source of life.

“No one’s coming,” he announces quietly, though Ruddiger’s not sure if he’s talking to him or himself. Either way, he chitters sadly in response. It’s been weeks since his boy came back from that terrible storm crying in shock over the encased form of his father (the same form that loomed over the two now), then crying in anger over the betrayal of people he had thought were his friends. In the same time, he has barely eaten or slept, and it shows. His skin is a permanent paper white, and it doesn’t take nearly as much as it used to to send the alchemist tumbling to the ground, not that Varian pays attention to things like that. Ever since... _ that night _ , his already low regard for self care had disappeared. It worries Ruddiger, to say the least.

“Why?”

Ruddiger blinks, knowing this question  _ is  _ directed at him.

“Why don’t they care about me?” his boy continues, sounding too tired to cry anymore. “Why don’t they care about  _ him _ ?”

He glances at his father, breath hitching and tears from before quickly coming back.

“Why did you push me, Dad?” he asks desperately, focus completely gone from the raccoon and all on the amber. Ruddiger backs away, watching everything with an aching heart from afar.

“It should have been me! I should be the one stuck in there! Why…”

Suddenly, Varian stops, clutching his shirt. His breathing begins to pick up, rapidly gaining speed as his eyes widen.

“It’s my fault. No, oh gosh- it’smyfaultit’smyfaultit’smyfault-”

He screams, grabbing his head and pulling his hair as if the words are causing him physical pain.

“N-no, it can’t - it can’t be m-my…”

Ruddiger stays in his spot, concern growing. There’s obviously something wrong with his child, but what is he supposed to do?

“No!” he yells, as if there’s someone else (besides an animal and an unconscious body) in the room with him. “It’s not mine - it’s theirs! It’s  _ their  _ fault!”

It’s like that statement changes everything. Varian’s breathing calms, and he pulls his fingers out of his hair. He even sits a little straighter, staring at a random spot on the wall across from him.

“It’s their fault,” he repeats, tone so neutral it almost sounds...innocent. But it’s nothing like the little kid Ruddiger had known only days ago.

Then, his eyes harden, unveiling much darker emotions and wiping away any thought of innocence. His mouth twists into a snarl, once cute teeth clenched together. 

“When this is over, they’ll wish they had been the trapped ones,” he growls.

He stands up slowly, bracing himself against the work table, a new determination in his face. He extends an arm once again, but this time, Ruddiger is hesitant to climb on.

Varian doesn’t seem to mind, complete focus on the notes and sketches in front of him. 

“It’s alright, buddy,” he muses, almost absent-mindedly. A cruel,  _ broken _ smile forms on his freckled face.

“I think I have a plan.” 

**Author's Note:**

> thx for reading:)


End file.
